


Alone At the Front Line

by t0bemadeofglass



Series: Mini Prompts [2]
Category: Marvel (Movies), The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Character Death, Drabble, Gen, Medieval AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:01:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/t0bemadeofglass/pseuds/t0bemadeofglass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki hates it when his older brother leaves to fight in the rebellion against the crown, fully expecting never to see him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Alone At the Front Line

**Author's Note:**

> Title comes from Think of England by IAMX, and this drabble is part of a 50 fic in 90 day challenge

“Brother, please do not go.”  Loki pleaded, looking up at the tall blond man whose face was set hard with his resolve.  It was the third night that the older boy was going out, and for Loki nothing was more terrifying.  What if Thor never came back?  He was the man of their small family and without him, well, there were never any good stories of what happened to those children who were orphaned.  His hand shot out to try and reach towards Thor’s hand, but the calloused limb pulled itself away from Loki’s thin one.  

“Loki do not ask me to do that.”  Thor said, his blue eyes looking down, boring into his brother’s very soul.  With the same large hand that had been retracted the blond man patted his baby brother on the head.  “I must fight for what I believe in, and I believe the King is mistaken.  If it is God’s will, which I do think it is, then you have nothing to fear as our cause will be successful today.”

“You’ll be hanged as a heretic!” Loki reminded him, cheeks flushing as his voice cracked but his gaze no less determined.  Thor’s attention turned to the window as the dawn began to break, spilling pinks and golds along the horizon line, gilding the tops of the treas and the grass.  The winter had not been an easy one for them to endure, but this spring was doing well so far.  Their small crops had grown, providing them with food, and so long as their hunt was successful they would have enough to go to town to sell.  That was Loki’s job for the day, Thor thought as he crossed to the other side of the small wooden house, the old flooring creaking ominously beneath his worn leather boots.  They were the last thing he had of his fathers, while Loki sported a small pair of gloves that had belonged to their mother.  They had been heretics, too, or so the king thought, and for not accepting his second wife they had been condemned to death.  Thor remembered pulling Loki tight against his chest to shield the boy from seeing it happen, from watching as their fathers head rolled away, his blood soaking the freshly tilled ground, as their mother was dragged off screaming into the forest.  They killed her there after she screamed for what felt like days.  The two boys weren’t allowed to leave until the men had come back, lips twisted with perversion and armor stained with their mother’s fresh blood.  

Barbarians.

They were the same barbarians Thor fought against now and he realized why Loki could never understand it, could never feel the same as the eldest did.  In shielding the small boy Thor had kept the truth from him, in keeping the truth from him, the horror from the young boy, he’d prevented him from feeling anger.  Aggression.  A need to avenge their mother and father.  All of this was lost on Loki, who was staring up at him expectantly, waiting for Thor to respond.  

“What?”

“You--why is it that you don’t listen to me!  I know what I’m talking about!” Loki said, his eyes painful as he accused the blond man of negligence.  Thor’s heart tweaked.  He needed to leave before Loki managed to change his mind.  Bending forward he kissed the top of Loki’s head, wished him a good morning.

“Do not forget to check the snares we left on the ground last night,” Thor reminded him, voice gruff as he did his best to keep from getting too emotional.  That was the very last thing he need; Loki pounced on weakness.  The boy would be a great hunter one day.  Loki was speaking once more but Thor ignored it, mussing up his brother’s raven hair once more before the eldest crossed the door frame and disappeared down the road.  The other rebels would wait where it forked a mile or so away, and from there they would make it to the rebellion point.  As he walked Thor could feel Loki’s eyes on him, and sighed.  Perhaps when he was older he would understand.  

* * *

Loki could hardly do what he needed, his mind elsewhere as he hunted, with his brother at the rebellion some five miles from where they lived.  Later, every time he thought he heard the clop of hooves on the thin road leading to their house he looked up from where he was pulling weeds or tending to what few crops were already beginning to push up.  More often than not it was his imagination, and he would return to his work with a quiet titter.  Thor was fine, he was sure.  The sooner he came back, however, the better.  Loki would be able to breathe again, and when the blond oaf returned he’d beat him over the head a few times until he learned to listen to his brother; younger or not they both knew that Loki’s ideas were the better ones.  

Thor didn’t return that night, and Loki’s sleep was an uneasy one after an almost non-existent dinner.  He was too worried, his hands shaking all the while he stared at his thin soup and bread.  It was a shame to let it go to waste so he offered it to the pigs.  At least there he would get some reimbursement when the pig was nice and fat, and after he saw to the other animals he retreated back inside.  Surely the men were all celebrating a successful day while at the tavern.  Thor had done it before, gone out late at night and not returned for a few days, mostly half drunk by the time he returned.  

That had to be it.

For three days Loki clung to that idea, and for three days his heart sank a little further and further.  He stopped eating all together, surviving on what water they had and harvesting all else to sell.  He supposed it was best to get used to it if he was going to live alone; orphans didn’t survive long.  No, he mustn't think like that.  He shook his head and turned his attention back to his work, digging into the ground with renewed fervor.

* * *

This time when the hooves came down the road it wasn’t Loki’s imagination.  His eyes flew to the black steed with his brother atop it, the midday sun playing off of his blonde hair as though it were a halo.  There had never been a sweeter sight.  The boy’s eyes went wide as saucers as he threw down his tools and took off running to his brother.  The tall man dismounted before Loki got to him and with a wide grin he held him tight in his arms.  “My brother we were successful!” Thor boomed when he finally pulled away.  “Our message was understood and the King has assured us he will take our cause into account when he draws up the documents at his next meeting with parliament.  We are all to be recognized at a gathering in a week’s time!”  

“All of you?”

“You included.”  Thor clapped his brother on the back. “I could not leave my little brother behind!”  

* * *

It was nothing more than an ambush, of that Loki should have realized.  It was too good to be true.  He watched his brother get hacked down while he, Loki, had been hidden behind a small bush to watch the massacre.  Thor went down fighting, having grabbed a hammer from the house before they’d left in haste to get to the meeting on time, and he was brandishing it as though it were the sharpest of daggers.  Loki’s heart swelled.  Why had he not run with him?  Why did he stand and fight?

He was hewn nearly in half by a knight on a horse, and Loki, now orphaned, watched as his brother’s lips murmured his name as he fell to the ground.  

 


End file.
